


Modern Fable A: In Pluviam

by littlebeebeebird (Jellibeebee)



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M, Modern Fables AU, Nonbinary Gamzee, Pale Romance, Vampire AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-08
Updated: 2015-02-08
Packaged: 2018-03-11 03:11:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3311726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jellibeebee/pseuds/littlebeebeebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was raining the night that Gamzee met Keinan.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Modern Fable A: In Pluviam

**Author's Note:**

> Keinan, and later Keagan, are the humanstuck names for Karkat.  
> Gamzee, and later Gavril, use both They and He pronouns.  
> Sorry for any confusion!

When Gamzee had gotten old enough to make it on their own, their mother had left them with a few essential rules to live by. Gamzee had always been an obedient child, curious maybe, clumsy often, but never intentionally defiant enough to break the simple ground rules their mother has imparted onto them. ( _Rule one, do not drop your glamor, do not let humans see you._ _Rule two, do not interact with humans any more than you have to._ _Rule three, don't get attached to humans. They live and die so quickly, they're not worth it._ _Rule four, don't ever reveal your true nature to humans. They won't understand._ )

 

But as with all rules, even the ones Gamzee's mother—as terrible and powerful as she might be—had made, they were inevitably made to be broken.

* * *

 

 

Gamzee was still young, then. Granted they were much older than many other people around them, but for their kind, the ageless, the immortal, they'd barely scratched the surface of life. To them, the world was a novelty and life still fresh, and for the first time in their life they were able to do as they would out from underneath the watchful eye of their mother.

 

To this day Gamzee still couldn't say what drew them to Iran, except that they hadn't been there yet and they could go there if they wanted to.

 

Eventually there was an evening not unlike many other evenings Gamzee had spent down by the port, watching the humans and their ships, listening to their heartbeats and their conversations idly to pass the time. It was October, the weather cooling while the rainy season crept closer, and while it was not in any way growing cold by Gamzee's standards,—they had visited northern Russia with their mother to see their older sibling a decade ago—the native born inhabitants would beg to differ.

 

When the sun began it's occidental descent, the sky began threaten rain, encouraging the people of Bushehr to complete their day's work and return home. Gamzee though, who had never had a problem with the rain, didn't pay much mind to it. They wandered the empty city while the rain poured down, soaking them through within the first half hour. It was peaceful, and they sang to the empty evening streets because no one could hear them and the mood seemed to call for it.

 

By the time the sky had gone completely dark and the city was as quiet as it could be with the oncoming rain, it was no longer an evening like any other Gamzee had spent in Bushehr or any place otherwise. It was no longer as such because, at that moment, Gamzee knew they were going to break their mother's rules.

 

There was a young man lying face down in the street, breathing shallowly, a dark pool of red blooming around their middle. It's iron siren song clear and strong despite the rain muddling the scent of the young man's liquid life.

 

Gamzee's lips parted, he took a step closer, hands closing nervously around the hem of their shirt.

 

_Rule one, do not drop your glamor, do not let humans see you._

 

Their glamor fell with more ease than they'd ever expected it to as they went to their knees beside the figure, hands shaking as they reached out to push soaked hair away from the dying human's face. Young for sure, barely twenty, the boy was beautiful in a soft sort of way. It made Gamzee's chest ache.

 

“Hello?” They called softly, bent over the prone figure bleeding onto the rain slick street. No response came.

 

_Rule two, do not interact with humans any more than you have to._

 

“I'm gonna move you, okay? S'not safe out here.” Picking up the prone body was easy, despite the disparity between Gamzee's willowly frame and the more solid build of the stranger.

 

Gamzee brought him home, bound the gash he had in his side, and sat down to wait.

* * *

 

The boy's name was Keinan, and he was the first human Gamzee ever had stay with him over any long length of time. Keinan didn't want to say why he was bleeding in the street that night, and Gamzee didn't push. What Keinan did want to say was that Gamzee was the strangest looking foreigner he'd ever seen, and that Gamzee's living quarters had a crack in the wall by the door that really should've been mended when it first appeared. Keinan of course said all of this with far more colorful language, and Gamzee was entranced.

 

Everything about Keinan was so _alive_ , even though he couldn't seem to get out of bed without their warm brown skin turning an off shade of gray.

 

Gamzee loved him near instantly, taking care of him, listening to him talk, cleaning his wound, cooking for him. While Gamzee himself had never needed to eat, he'd always enjoyed it, and could cook several things to Keinan's embarrassed satisfaction.

 

It might have been days, or weeks, or even months,--time was so slippery sometimes, especially when Gamzee wasn't paying it much heed--before Keinan could get out of bed steadily on his own two feet. It was both a joy and a sorrow, because that brought the idea to him that Keinan would leave him when he was well enough.

 

There were nights when Keinan dreamed and his dreams were not kind, and those nights Gamzee held him and pet his hair, letting him cry and whimper into his front.

 

_Rule three, don't get attached to humans. They live and die so quickly, they're not worth it._

* * *

 

It was past midnight in the year of 1870, the moon high in the cloudless night sky. The air was thick with humidity, night having brought little relief from the heat. Gamzee sat perched on their chair beside what had become Keinan's bed in the past year, reading a Russian fairytale their sibling had given them.

 

They didn't realize that Keinan was awake until he sat up, startling Gamzee into dropping their book, sending it sliding across the floor to bump against the far wall.  
  
“Keinan! You near scared th'life right outta me.” Gamzee laughed, a hand over their heart. Keinan didn't respond immediately, looking out at the open window instead, up at the moon spilling silver light into the bedroom.

 

“Gamzee,” He said after a long moment, hands becoming fists against the thin sheets on the bed. His voice isn't angry, more a different sort of tense. Some kind of frustrated. “Gamzee, what _are_ you?”

 

The question caught them off guard, mainly for the fact that they'd never been asked before. Most likely because before Keinan there wasn't anyone around to do the asking.

 

“What, you mean like, how I am? 'Cause I don't rightly know, brother, thing is I just all happen t'like pretty things t'wear really an--”

 

“No, damnit Gamzee! That's not what I meant.” Keinan still hadn't turned to look at them, his hands white knuckled around the sheets. There's a desperation to his voice, that same tension still there. “I mean, you're—you're not human, are you. You don't sleep, or really eat, or— _fuck, Gamzee_ , your eyes glow in the dark! You're not human, so what _are_ you?”

 

The room was silent for a very long time, Gamzee wringing their hands and Keinan holding his breath, waiting for an answer.

 

“There's lotsa names for what I am,” Gamzee said at last, softly. “I don't know which you'd know best, brother. But I ain't human, no, you're right on that. It's—it's not that I'm bein' _dead_ or nothin', just a different sort've alive. A quieter, slower kind, an' sometimes I gotta take a lil'bit of what makes humans live so quick so as I might keep livin' on. D'you—you get me?”

 

_Rule four, don't ever reveal your true nature to humans. They won't understand._

 

It took a while for Gamzee to realize Keinan was crying with his face pointing to the window, his shoulders trembling, breath hitching.

 

“Oh, no, Keinan,” They reached out to touch, to gather Keinan up in their arms, and met no resistance. “I wouldn't ever hurt you, never ever, please don't cry, don't be scared none, not've me, never've me.”

 

But Keinan shook his head, choked on a laugh. “No—no, you moron, no. I'm not scared—how could anyone be scared of _you_?” Keinan draws back, cups Gamzee's cheek in one hand. “Gamzee, I'm happy. Because—I'm sick, Gamzee. I'm dying. I'm fucking dying, and I'm so fucking terrified, and I'm not _ready_ yet—I haven't even had my first kiss, for fuck's sake--but you could—do you think you could... Is there any way you...”

 

Gamzee looked into Keinan's eyes then, the dark brown pools made so wet by tears, filled with the terror of the mystery of death. They looked into Keinan's eyes and saw desperation to live, saw the human struggle to stay alive, but no matter how hard they looked they couldn't find what they were looking for, and their heart broke.

 

“Nah,” Gamzee said gently, wiping away Keinan's tears with a smile belying the sadness settled around their heart. “Not for that, brother, I can't do a thing for that. You... You get some sleep now, alright? It'll be better in th'mornin'.”

 

Keinan's expression hurt to look at, but Gamzee tucked him in all the same, even kissed his forehead goodnight.

 

Gamzee sat in the cramped little adjoining kitchen and wondered why they thought breaking their mother's rules was ever a good idea.

* * *

 

The rainy season had come again, and Keinan had picked up a horrible cough, leading Gamzee to fuss over him and make a copious amount of soup.

 

There was a bowl of one such soup steaming on the beside table, rain pattering down against the windowpanes while Gamzee sat in his usual seat, cradling his own bowl in one hand and spooning it into his mouth with the other. He kept sneaking worried glances over at Keinan, propped up against the headboard with a book in his lap, staring at it listlessly.

 

“The soup's good, I swear.” Gamzee tried at lightheartedness, but Keinan didn't laugh or roll his eyes as he normally would have. “Keinan?” He asked softly, setting down his bowl by the other on the bedside table, shifting forward to lay their hand on Keinan's shoulder. “What's wrong?”

 

Keinan pulled their legs up to their chest, book falling off to the side, forgotten. “I'm dying, Gamzee, that's what's fucking wrong,” He bit his lip then, closing his eyes tightly to ward of any tears. “I'm dying and--” His cough cut him off, startling Gamzee and bending Keinan forward, forcing him into a kneeling position. With nothing better to do Gamzee rubbed his back anxiously, slow worried clockwise circles.

 

Keinan coughed for what seemed like forever until finally drawing in one reedy breath and steadying himself. Gamzee bit his lower lip, running his fingers through the hair at the nape of Keinan's neck.

 

“Keinan, maybe you should--”

 

“Fuck! No—Gamzee, listen,” Keinan's voice was cracked and ragged, but he still managed to shout. “Listen, okay? I'm dying. Even if it's not today, or tomorrow, or next week, I'm dying, and you're _not_ , okay? And I've been thinking, because I, because,” He reached out then, taking one of Gamzee's delicate hands in his smaller, warmer one. “I've been thinking, maybe you should go, or I should go, so it won't—so it won't fucking hurt so much, when I die. And if you can't leave, then I can, because I love you and I don't want--”

 

“Wait,” Gamzee didn't normally make a habit of cutting Keinan off, mainly out of his polite upbringing but also because Keinan seemed to really hate it (and made a habit of decclaring the things he hated by shouting), but this time he made an exception. “Wait, brother, did you just say—say what you said again, so I didn't mishear you.”

 

Keinan, eyes damp with unshed tears, looked at Gamzee like he'd started singing praises of the British presence in Bushehr. “I was saying, before you fucking interrupted me—you asstrumpet—that I don't want you to fucking suffer when I die, so I'd leave because I love you.”

 

Gamzee sat in stunned silence, gaping at Keinan for the longest time.

 

After a moment or two, Keinan returned the look right back. “You're fucking _kidding me Gamzee—_ you didn't _know_? Really? After all this time, you didn't think that I loved you?” His voice was stuck somewhere between disbelief and affectionate exasperation. Shakily, he lifted Gamzee's hand to his lips, kissing his knuckles.

 

Gamzee moved maybe a bit too quickly for Keinan to see, but one moment he was in the chair and the next he was wrapped around Keinan, clutching at him desperately. “I love you too, Keinan, I love you so much, please don't go nowhere, don't leave me, Keinan--”

 

“Hey, Gamzee, shhh.”

 

Keinan's eyes were soft then, accepting, sorrowful beyond measure. “I'll be with you for as long as I can, okay? Don't cry, oh, fuck, Gamzee, don't cry okay?”

 

But the tears had already came, dribbling down Gamzee's cheeks, mixed lightly with the black ichor of that constituted his blood. “But—but, don't you wanna stay with me forever?” It was a pitiful question, asked in a pitiful manner. Keinan's heart might have broken at that moment.

 

“You said you can't do anything about it, and fuck knows doctors can't. Gamzee, I'd stay with you forever if I fucking could but I _can't--_ ”

 

“But—I was... I mean... I can, though.”

 

“ _What the fuck did you just say?_ ”

 

Gamzee, a little cowed by Keinan's tone—not quite angry, but startled with the high possibility of anger later—sheepishly shrugged his shoulders, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. “Thing is, I sorta _can_ make you _kinda_ like me, but it'd mean we're together forever, all bonded an' such, an' I didn't think before that you loved me none so I didn't figure that was a right thing to do-- t'you or me.”

 

Keinan sighed, ran a hand down his face. Tried not to smile and tried not to smack Gamzee on the arm for being ridiculous and good hearted and oblivious as all hell. “I _do_ love you, I love you so fucking much, more than I ever thought I _could_ love anyone. I'll be with you forever, Gamzee, I want to. Let me be with you.”

 

Keinan and Gamzee shared their first kiss that night. Not an hour later did Keinan die, reborn soon after, immortal so long as Gamzee lived.

 

They left Iran soon after that, somewhere colder, Keinan demanded. He'd had enough of the heat.

* * *

 

It's late August now, the rest of the nineteenth century well passed by. The year is 2014, and we find Keinan, now Keagan, lounging on a pull out couch with Gamzee, now Gavril. The TV is on but only barely, neither needing the sound to be very high to hear it perfectly.

 

A summer storm rains down against their air conditioner in their Boston apartment. Idly, Keagan shifts and kisses Gavril's cheek.

 

“You're looking pretty fucking pensive today, what gives?” Keagan rolls over onto their side and wraps his arm around Gavril's thin waist. “Don't tell me you're reaching your broody stage, Batman.”

 

That startles a laugh out of Gavril, who'd been more or less spacing out for the past ten minutes. “What? Nah, I was just thinkin' 'bout when I first saw you. Never did find out why you were out there in th'street.” Gavril looks at Keagan expectantly, lips pursed and eyebrows raised. “You ever gonna tell me?”

 

“Well—it's just, it's really fucking embarassing, okay?” Keagan rolls over to put his back to Gavril, arms crossed over his chest defensively.

 

“Awh, c'mon! Tell me! I've seen you do worse things probly.” Gavril laughs and sits up, poking at Keagan's soft, exposed side. “Tell me! Y'know you wanna!”

 

“Gavril! Fucking—cut it out!!” Keagan swats at Gavril's hands but to no avail, suffering the slings and arrows of the incessant prodding of Gavril's bony fingers. “Fine! Fine!! I'll tell you, just, stop, holy fucking shit!”

 

Gavril relents immediately, expectantly beaming at Keagan as if they'd done nothing to warrant Keagan's annoyance in the slightest. Keagan sighs, sitting up and rubbing his face with one hand, the other propping himself up.

 

“Okay, so, I was... Well, for one, I was sick and stupid, and on top of that I was pissed off at the world because, well. You know. So, being the dumb shithead I was and continue to occasionally be, I went and got wasted. And this guy there, he had a dagger, and somehow in my totally fucked up state I managed to pick it off him,”

 

Gavril nods, listening with rapt attention. Keagan groans at their obvious glee.

 

“Anyway, I was walking back to where I was staying at the time. And I just, sort of, well, I fell on it, on my side, like a fucking moron.” His face has grown a hot shade of red-brown from the memory, making Gavril's fingers cold in comparison when they pry Keagan's hand off his face.

 

“I'm glad you did—otherwise I'dve never met you. My life'd be so empty without you, Keagan.”

 

Keagan sputters something that sounds very much like 'fuck you Gavril' before kissing him.

 

“Yeah, me too.”

 


End file.
